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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329428">it’s always darkest before the dawn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/brickandbone/pseuds/brickandbone'>brickandbone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Percy Jackson and the Olympians &amp; Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Depression, Forgive me for writing this, Gabe Ugliano Being an Asshole, Gen, Hurt Percy Jackson, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Oh who am I kidding, Panic Attacks, Percy Jackson Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sally Jackson is a Good Parent, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, brief ??? moment, don't judge me for this y'all, i continue to edit tags when i'm bored, i pretend i know what im doing but i don't :(, im getting secondhand embarrassment from myself, no beta we die like jason, the entire work is ???</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:08:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/brickandbone/pseuds/brickandbone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Percy reflects, and receives an answer. Set sometime after TLO but before HOO. Songfic.</p><p>TW for suicidal thoughts, depression, panic attacks, and (failed) suicide attempt.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson (implied), Luke Castellan/Percy Jackson (past), Paul Blofis/Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson &amp; Sally Jackson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it’s always darkest before the dawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Song is “Brother” by Gerard Way. Title taken from “Shake It Out” by Florence + The Machine. If you haven't read the summary, there's a TW for suicidal thoughts, depression, panic attacks (failed) suicide attempt, so stay safe and please take care of yourself. &lt;3 Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Does anyone have the time to bring me down?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And can I sleep</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All night long</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To the drums of the city rain?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Illuminated by the streetlights below, the raindrops on the windowpane cast dancing shadows on his bedroom wall. Percy lay awake, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on his bedroom ceiling. The only sound he could hear was his breathing over the rain and the faint buzz of traffic outside. It was very late, and yet he lay awake, unable (or unwilling?) to let himself into Morpheus’s realm. Dreams were scarce and when the nightmares came, they came with a vengeance. He sighed. Percy wanted to check the time, maybe just to see how long he could last without sleep, but he couldn’t be bothered to get up to look at the clock. To be honest, he couldn’t be bothered to do a lot of things these days. Like removing the glow-in-the-dark stars his pre-pubescent self stuck on the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>It reminded him of too much—of what he’d lost, and what he’d never had in the first place<em>.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Just make it up</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Cause I’m awake</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All night long</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To the drums of the city rain</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was only a few days after the war. The scars were still fresh, and Percy was flitting back and forth between camp and his mom’s apartment. Gods, how he wanted to rest, even for a little while, but no. There were so many things to do - shrouds to burn, people to console, cabins to build. Wounds to heal. The flames burnt low at the campfires, perfectly reflecting Percy’s and the campers’ emotions. A cloud constantly hovered over their heads, filled with the unspoken - <em>are you okay? </em>Everybody seemed to be dodging the question, reluctant to face what had happened. Especially Percy. Lately people had been walking on eggshells around him and he didn’t know if he was grateful for it or hated it. It gave him an excuse to play pretend, to stay strong, after all.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, however brief, Percy could delude himself into thinking that everything was alright.</p><p> </p><p>Percy shifted in his sheets, and prepared for yet another sleepless night. He turned away from the stars and from the weight of their gaze.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And brother if you have the chance to pick me up?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And can I sleep</em>
</p><p>
  <em>On your couch</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To the pound of the ache and pain?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He stared hollowly at the wall. The pain was a dull ache, a throbbing at his temples. <em>Barely noticeable, </em>Percy thought. How long was it since he had slept? His eyes felt dry, his throat was sore, and he had a mild headache, but otherwise, Percy was fine. He should’ve hurt more, <em>felt</em> more. Instead he felt numb. <em>It wasn’t fair</em>. How dare he be able to live without the guilt consuming him? <em>It wasn’t fair. </em>It wasn’t fair that they died, and he lived. They didn’t deserve death. No one did.</p><p> </p><p><em>Charles, Silena, Bianca, Zoe, Michael, Lee, Ethan, Luke—</em>the names of the dead were etched into his heart, carved into his bones. Now Percy had to carry all this pain within him. <em>Alone. </em>Just like he should be<em>. It wasn’t fair. </em>It wasn’t. <em>It was his fault. </em>It was.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh, in my head</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Cause I’m awake</em>
</p><p>
  <em>All night long</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To the drums of the city rain</em>
</p><p> </p><p>By now the soft rains had become a full-on downpour, but Percy barely registered it over the sound of his inner turmoil and the voices in his head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The lights we chase</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The nights we steal</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The things that we take</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To make us feel this</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Demigods lived in the moment. There was no time to waste, their life-spans were short enough as it was. They lived fast, loved hard, and died young, leaving a gaping hole behind when they left and a string of broken hearts. So was it any surprise that Percy was the same? He just hadn’t got to the “dying young” part yet. He had loved, and he had lost. Percy had been forced to grow up too fast, too young even before learning of his parentage.</p><p> </p><p>After finding out his dead-beat dad was a <em>god, </em>and Poseidon, no less, it hadn’t been any easier. But Luke had made him feel, if only for a moment, that he was more than just a mistake, more than just another stupid kid with ADHD and dyslexia. <em>He was not a burden. </em>Only good things weren’t meant to last. Luke had betrayed them and Percy was apparently going to <em>die</em> at sixteen because of some stupid prophecy and Annabeth (<em>beautiful, fierce Annabeth who was too good for him</em>) liked him but still loved Luke, the traitor, the deceiver, the love of his life. He had been thrown into quest after quest after <em>quest</em> and he was <em>tired. So, so tired. </em>And yet—and yet the seemingly endless quests were a blissful relief, a distraction from the guilt that was eating him up. <em>It should’ve been me. </em>Now the quests have ended. The battle was over.</p><p> </p><p>There were no more distractions.</p><p> </p><p>Percy felt raw. Like someone had taken a potato peeler and exposed every bleeding part of him, trying to pry out the truth, killing him the process. The mythological world swept him away, told him to be a hero, wrung him dry (and then some), then patted him on the back, saying, “Good job!” while leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Percy had to pick up the pieces all by himself, to duct-tape what was left, to bind the wounds. All the trauma and PTSD and the nightmares had finally caught up to him and he was <em>drowning, </em>drowning in a wave of his own making.</p><p> </p><p>And he couldn’t run away.</p><p> </p><p><em>Save me, </em>Percy prayed to no one, anyone, <em>save me from myself. Save me before it’s too late </em>(It was already)<em>. Save me.</em></p><p> </p><p>There was no answer.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I can’t go back</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t think I will</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Though he didn’t expect there to be one, a sharp stab of pain lanced through Percy. Sometimes he wondered why he still bothered. What was the point? They had fought for the gods, and barely won, but at what cost? Hundreds of Kronos’s “traitor” demigods were slain, not to mention the sheer amount of damage the nymphs and satyrs sustained. Even so, were they the enemy? These traitor demigods, were they truly wrong to fight against the rule of the Olympians? They had chosen the wrong master to follow (Percy had to grudgingly admit that the Olympians’ rule was better than the Titans’), but their ideology was not wrong.</p><p> </p><p>What was the point in fighting, if nothing was ever going to change? Zeus would still cheat on Hera, Hera would still curse Zeus’s demigod children, the gods would still quarrel amongst themselves and neglect their children. The demigods were, <em>are,</em> expendable child soldiers, to be called on to serve Olympus, and discarded almost immediately after. <em>Nothing was ever going to change, and Percy was naïve to even entertain the thought that it would. </em>He had failed Ethan, and all the other demigods counting on him. <em>He had failed</em>.</p><p> </p><p>They said that heroes never get happy endings. They called him hero. Someone to look up to. A leader. A legend. Instead Percy felt like an imposter, a fake, a <em>poseur. </em></p><p> </p><p>So why would he deserve a happily-ever-after?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I won’t sleep tonight as long as I still</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hear the drums of the city rain</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Thunder clapped outside, and his breathing <em>hitched</em> and now all Percy could see was Gabe, advancing menacingly toward him, belt and beer bottle in hand. Zeus was standing behind him, watching on with glee as he raised his master bolt. Another crack. Another crack, and Gabe’s face melted into Annabeth’s, her grey eyes as hard as flint.</p><p> </p><p>She was sitting on a throne, <em>her throne on Mount Olympus, </em>while he knelt at her feet, a supplicant at her altar. She was beautiful. She was immortal. She was completely out of his league. Percy averted his eyes. Annabeth slapped him, the strike like a thunderclap. He bowed his head, cheek stinging, tears threatening to well up. She tilted his chin up, the gentle touch contrasting sharply with the slap seconds ago. <em>No, this isn’t real. Wake up, you have to wake up.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Look at me.”</p><p> </p><p>He obeyed. His nostrils were filled with the heady scent of lemons and roses and mountain laurel and something purely <em>Annabeth. </em>He loved her. He would die for her. And he would <em>obey her. </em>No, he wouldn’t. Percy was the sea. And the sea does not like being restrained. <em>But he loved her. </em>He did. <em>So he would obey her. </em>There was a sickly sweet scent clogging up his nostrils. No. She would have to earn his submission, just as he had earned her respect, friendship, and love. Through Percy’s increasingly hazy vision, clouded by tears, he saw that a familiar-looking scarf had taken up residence around Annabeth’s neck. <em>To love is to submit. To hurt. To destroy. You have much to learn, child. I can’t wait to see how your love life will play out. Mother was right. It will be very interesting, to say the least. </em>He had just a second to think, <em>wait what? </em>before the scent washed over him again and his mind was filled with love. <em>Something’s not righ—</em></p><p> </p><p>“Percy,” she crooned softly, nails resting lightly on his face, “Seaweed Brain.” Percy looked up at her. <em>Not real, </em>his mind chanted, <em>not real not real not real. Wake up. </em>He glimpsed a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, almost like the flitting of shadows. Percy didn’t dare look away.</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you be so <em>stupid,</em>” here her grip on his chin tightened, nails digging in painfully, “as to think that I could ever, <em>ever</em> love someone like <em>you.</em>” Annabeth shoved Percy to the ground roughly, getting up from her throne to stalk towards him. Percy was vaguely reminded of predator and prey in this way. <em>No, Annabeth, please, this isn’t you. </em>He seized the chance to check out the movement he had sensed earlier. Little Nico di Angelo stood in the corner of the throne room, shrouded in shadows. Percy could feel the weight of his bone-chilling glare from his position on the floor. He shuddered. Nico was toying with something in his hands, tossing it up and then catching it — the Hades figurine, Percy realised. A well of guilt opened up inside of him at the reminder.</p><p> </p><p><em>Nico, I— </em>Percy tried to communicate with his eyes, but Nico cut him off.</p><p> </p><p>Save it, he mouthed, you deserve this. All of it. With one last glare, Nico vanished in a swirl of darkness.</p><p> </p><p>Percy’s attention was brought back to Annabeth by the clicking of heels and her tsking. Reluctantly, he turned his focus back on to her horrible beauty.</p><p> </p><p>“Stupid. Worthless. Nothing but a burden.” She finally reached Percy’s cowering form, and gave a swift, precise kick to his ribs. <em>No, I love you, don’t—This isn’t re—</em></p><p> </p><p>He was sent sprawling with the blow, an echo of pain shooting through him, then the scene changed and Percy was now falling from Mount Olympus, falling down, down, <em>down. (Not real, wake up, not real.) </em>The faces of the dead were swarming him, taunting him, clawing at him with phantom limbs. <em>A failure. Is this really the Saviour of Olympus? Doesn’t look like much. </em>Isn’t <em>much if he could save Olympus but couldn’t save </em>me. <em>No, </em>Percy whispered, <em>you’re not real, you’re dead, you’re dead and I’m so so sorry I failed you, it’s my fault. </em>All the while he was spiralling, gaining momentum. It wouldn’t be long until he hit the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere out in the real world, Percy dug his nails into his arms. <em>Wake up, wake up </em>now.</p><p> </p><p>The white noise that had been steadily building up in his head reached a crescendo, the sound of the rain pounding in his head, throbbing along his nerves, confounding his senses. Percy couldn’t think, couldn’t <em>breathe</em> over the deafening drums and the voices screaming at each other and the sound of breaking glass. He hit the ground, and all was black. In the back of his mind, he vaguely registered that this was a panic attack, even as he frantically searched for <em>something</em>, anything to ground him. The walls of his bedroom suddenly came into his vision. The real world was filtering through his previously all-encompassing fear. <em>Good, good. </em></p><p> </p><p>Percy clenched and unclenched his sweaty fists, feeling the oh-so-familiar nausea roil through him and very, <em>very</em> cold all of a sudden. His eyes darted around the room until they rested on <em>his empty prescription bottle </em>on the bedside table. Percy let it centre him, focusing on just breathing. <em>In. Out. In. Out. </em>He was the tide lapping gently at the shores. He was the wind blowing softly through the trees. He was the definition of calm. He was looking at his medication. A dim lightbulb went off in his head, and the faint sketches of a very, <em>very</em> bad idea.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Does anyone have the guts to shut me up?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A small part of Percy cried out. <em>No, no! Don’t do this! What would Mom think? What would Paul? What would Annabeth? What would everybody think? How will you be able to protect them if you’re dead? You can’t die. You can’t. </em>He ignored it.</p><p> </p><p>Shakily, Percy got up, pushing back the blue coverlets. This wasn’t his first time contemplating death, but his first time actually doing something about it—with Gabe, he still had his mom to live for. A purpose. However, now he was—<em>worthless, </em>the voice inside Percy’s head taunted. A worthless, naïve <em>child</em> who would never be anything more than a dead weight to the people he loved. He had given more than enough. Maybe it’s time that he was a little selfish. In that instant, he made up his mind. There was only one sleep he sought, and it wouldn’t be found here.</p><p> </p><p>Percy unlocked his bedroom door slowly and uncapped Riptide, stepping out into the hall filled with the sound of Paul’s light snoring. <em>I’m sorry, Mom, Paul, Dad, Annabeth. I’m sorry that I wasn’t enough.</em> The floorboards were creaky, but Percy knew well enough from sleepless nights of a time long past to not step on any of them. He reached the bathroom door, and opened it with a click, propping Riptide up against the sink. Looking into the mirror, then focusing on the medicine cabinet above it, Percy took a deep breath. Camp Half-Blood, Annabeth, his mom, the <em>world</em> would be better off without him. An extra burden. <em>No more quests, no more suffering. </em>There would be no going back. <em>I’m sorry. </em>He opened the cabinet.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Cause I believe</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That every night</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There’s a chance we could walk away</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Percy reached out, trailing his fingertips along the various bottles he found there. His hand hovered over a large pill bottle, hesitating.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>So hold on tight</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because I won’t</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wait too long</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In the drums of the beating rain</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Percy mentally berated himself. <em>What are you doing? Stop this, right now! </em>And still he waited. <em>For what?</em></p><p> </p><p>Meanwhile, Sally Jackson-Blofis woke up with a start, with the feeling that something was very, very <em>wrong </em>resonating within her<em>.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘Cause the nights don’t last</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And we leave alone</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Will you drive me back?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Can you take me home?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She looked around warily, and still the feeling persisted.</p><p> </p><p>Sally saw nothing out of ordinary. But it would be better to check, to sooth the worry churning inside her. She sat up. Paul slept on beside her, a small frown forming when she got up. She smiled fondly, then turned. Sally opened the door.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The lights we chase</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The nights we steal</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The things that we take</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To make us feel this</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Percy’s hand closed around the bottle.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I can’t go back</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t think I will</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I won’t sleep tonight as long as I still</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hear the drums of the city rain</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He flipped the lid of the toilet down, then sat down heavily. <em>What are you doing? Are you crazy?</em></p><p> </p><p>Percy briefly looked at Riptide. Maybe he could—No. Did he really want to stain Zoë’s sword with his lifeblood? She would be so disappointed. Not to mention the mess <em>that</em> would leave behind when he was gone. He was leaving to ease <em>their </em>burden, not add to it. So no. What about the bathtub? Besides the fact that he couldn’t drown, that would actually be quite funny. Would certainly supply Charon with something to laugh about for the next century or two. But no. Make a plan, stick to the plan, die in a blaze of glory. Overdosing on pills it is then. Percy smiled bitterly. <em>Nothing glorious about suicide, eh?</em></p><p> </p><p>Sally followed the path her feet took her, her unease growing with each step.</p><p> </p><p>There was a faint bronze glow emanating from the bathroom. Sally sighed. Percy must’ve had a nightmare again, and hadn’t wanted to wake her. That silly boy. Didn’t he know how much she wanted to be there for him?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Faces I don’t know</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I am tired in the glow</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of the freezing club</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Percy clutched the pill bottle in his hands like a lifeline, bowing his head. Unbeknownst to him, a single tear trailed down his face. <em>To the gods, </em>he thought spitefully, raising the pill bottle high before popping the lid, shaking a good amount of pills out. Scratch that, he dumped the whole bottle into his palm, nearly emptying it. And it still wouldn’t be enough. Would never be enough to fill the gaping void inside of him.</p><p> </p><p>Sally stopped in front of the bathroom, and was unable to contain her gasp at what she saw.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Keep me breathing don’t</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Make the lights come back</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Can you take me home?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Percy whipped his head around. “Mom?” he said, his voice cracking. His hand fell to his side in an effort to conceal what he had been doing, had been planning to do. Percy’s fist clenched and unclenched, the pills digging into the skin of his palm. Sally took a tentative step forward.</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t— I don’t—”</p><p> </p><p>He began backing away, almost tripping in his haste to <em>get away, get away now. </em>His feet hit the bathtub, and he stumbled, nearly falling in. Percy dropped the bottle. Pills flew everywhere, falling like rain, pooling around his feet. He slid down against the tub and curled into himself, defeated, several more tears joining the first one.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>We all need this when</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We leave alone</em>
</p><p> </p><p>At once, his mom was at his side and she was hugging him, rocking from side to side, whispering <em>it’s okay</em> and <em>I love you</em> and he felt like he was teleported back to a time when <em>everything was okay. </em>The physical touch was grounding: Percy no longer felt like floating unanchored in space, all alone. <em>All alone in the cold, with the sense that no one loved him, not really. </em>The tears spilled faster and faster, his inner ocean of despair roiling.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Remember when you and I would make things up?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So many nights</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just take me down</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To the place we would hear them play</em>
</p><p> </p><p>As she embraced her son, Sally reminisced on better times, happier times. <em>Percy was such a happy child. So much joy and kindness to share.</em> She wondered what changed. <em>She knew exactly what had changed.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I miss that sound</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Cause now we don’t</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sing so loud</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To the drums of the city rain</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sally wished they were back in the time before the mythological world had taken her baby boy’s innocence away from him. Sure, she wouldn’t have met Paul, and they would still have to put up with Gabe, but at least then, Percy was relatively safe. At the time, Sally’s greatest worry was <em>how long can Percy stay out of trouble</em> and not <em>is he even alive? </em>She was prepared to sacrifice anything, endure it all again, heck, even walk through broken glass if only to see him safe and sound. And Sally did try. She did. She followed all the unspoken rules, sending him to boarding school after boarding school <em>to keep him safe</em>, despite the fact that it tore at her heart to send him away. Sally bit back a sob.</p><p> </p><p>After Percy’s introduction to the mythological world and the increasingly dangerous quests he was sent, Sally had tried to reach out. <em>Talk to me, Percy, are you okay? I love you, you know that right? No matter what. </em>All she got a was a <em>I’m fine, Mom</em>, an <em>I know, Mom, I know, </em>and a glossed-over account of events. Sally knew he was partially lying about his quests, probably to protect her from the devastating truth, but she never knew the true lengths Percy went to conceal what truly happened. The depths of the scars he bore.</p><p> </p><p>Until now.</p><p> </p><p>And so she wept. Wept for injustice, wept for the cruelty and indifference of the gods, and most of all, wept for her little boy, her Perseus.</p><p> </p><p>Her hero.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The lights we chase</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The nights we steal</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The things that we take</em>
</p><p>
  <em>To make us feel this</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It had been a while since Percy had had a proper cry. Gabe had beat that out of him, and what he couldn’t teach with his fists the constant bullying at school had cemented deep within Percy. <em>Boys don’t cry. Crying makes you weak. A sissy. </em>Between quests and school there certainly wasn’t any time for him to let out his feelings. Besides, Percy was the leader of Camp Half-Blood, a guy people looked up to. There were people depending on him. If he couldn’t even function properly, how could the demigods trust him to lead them into battle? What would that mean for their morale if their leader was weak? And so Percy had gotten used to pulling himself together as best he could, donning a mask to hide just how broken he was. He was running on empty fumes, but it was okay, so long as he could get through the war. Now he was no longer needed though, Percy crashed and burned.</p><p> </p><p>No one noticed.</p><p> </p><p>Why would they? He was so adept at maintaining his facade of happiness that he could consider acting as a future career.</p><p> </p><p>No one noticed, but his mom did.</p><p> </p><p>Percy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at that. He clung harder to his mom.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I can’t go back</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t think I will</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I won’t sleep tonight as long as I still</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hear the drums of the city rain</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was a certain freedom in letting out your emotions in the form of tears. It had been so long, he had forgotten what it was like. Percy had been <em>so strong </em>for so long. But he no longer needed to be strong anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Percy sobbed. Big, ugly sobs that had him gasping for air and hiccuping. The wave of emotion that had been, if he was honest, building up for <em>years </em>now was crashing down on him, demanding to be acknowledged. Gods, he needed therapy. The weight of what he had, and <em>almost did, </em>finally hit him. <em>I’m sorry, </em>Percy blubbered, <em>I’m sorry. </em>His mom comforted him, rocking him gently through all the pain, whispering that she loved him, that he was her little hero, that he was her world.</p><p> </p><p>He felt as though he were a kid again, three years old and bawling his eyes out about a paper cut. His mom was there as always, <em>as she was now, </em>and smoothing away his tears, giving him a kiss on the forehead and her famous blue chocolate chip cookies. This was no different.</p><p> </p><p>So Percy sank into his mother’s embrace and let himself be a child once more.</p><p> </p><p>Percy was gripping her arms with a force and a desperateness that she knew would leave bruises tomorrow, but it didn’t matter. It would be a small price to pay for having her son <em>alive. </em>Alive. A thing that Sally never thought she would ever have to count her blessings for. But she was. And boy, was she grateful. Sally could use all the luck she had on her side.</p><p> </p><p>She gave thanks to whatever deity was out there watching over Percy, keeping him alive. Her hand was splayed over his chest, feeling the steady <em>thumpthumpthump</em> of his heart. With every beat it reassured her, telling her that there was hope.<em> It would be okay, it would be okay, </em>Sally found herself thinking almost hysterically. So long as they had each other (<em>He was alive! She had found him just in time. It was not too late</em>), it would be okay.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Like strangers laugh and like subways feel</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Things I’m trying to break</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh, just wait until this is all we have to keep us ill</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There came a time when the waterworks slowed, and all that was left were some sniffles and a hiccup here and there. His mom was stroking his hair soothingly, and Percy felt calmer. More at peace. Yes, the anger and the pain and the trauma still existed somewhere inside of him, but they were now lessened, somehow, by his outburst and tempered by other emotions. The storm was still raging inside, but here, in his mother’s embrace he found a safe harbour. Percy felt lighter, now that he had gotten that off his chest. However, there was still one more thing for him to do.</p><p> </p><p>“Mom?” He asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p> </p><p>Percy took a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s something—something I should’ve told you a long, long time ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hand stilled in his hair. There was a beat of silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Percy, honey, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I know it’s been hard lately. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” <em>I know, </em>her eyes seemed to say, filled with incomprehensible love and understanding and <em>warmth.</em></p><p> </p><p>That almost brought him to tears again. Percy was silent for a while. He turned to look up at her impossibly sad blue eyes. “I want to,” he said solemnly.</p><p> </p><p>Sally resumed her stroking, not saying a word, just waiting, listening.</p><p> </p><p>Percy began speaking, stilted and awkward. The words slipped out unwillingly, at first, then poured out in a storm. He still stumbled over some words and his voice wavered occasionally, but the longer he spoke, the more confident and faster he grew in his recounting. His mom didn’t judge, only nodding her head at appropriate points and holding him just a little tighter when the words didn’t want to come out.</p><p> </p><p>And if his eyes got wet more than once and if sometimes, he had to pause, <em>it was okay. </em>Percy most definitely looked like a hot mess, and would probably feel like one tomorrow, but <em>it was okay. </em>It was okay, because he was only human after all. It was okay, because he wasn’t alone. And when his demons resurface (as demons do), Percy would be ready to fight it, with the help of his family and friends. It would be a long and arduous battle, and sometimes he would want to give up, but <em>it was okay.</em> He was not a burden. He knew his own worth. He was loved.</p><p> </p><p>And that was all the reason he needed.</p><p> </p><p>Percy would fight. Today. Tomorrow. The day after.</p><p> </p><p>And all the days after that.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I won’t breathe tonight as long as I still</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hear the drums of the city rain</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tell me what you think. Did you like it? Did you hate it? </p><p>Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)</p><p>Edit: went back to fix some minor errors/tag tw :) lol i have to do everything myself</p></blockquote></div></div>
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